


A Game of Circles: Season 3

by Mendeia



Series: A Game of Circles [3]
Category: NCIS: Los Angeles
Genre: But they're still spies so there are many secrets, By which I mean a tag for literally every episode, Canon Compliant, Episode Tag, Epistolary (sometimes), Family Feels, Fluff and Humor, Gen, Team as Family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-09
Updated: 2019-05-29
Packaged: 2020-01-07 05:45:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 24
Words: 14,698
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18404318
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mendeia/pseuds/Mendeia
Summary: Conversation is a game of circles. – Ralph Waldo EmersonIn every episode of NCIS:LA, there is an unseen moment, a hidden exchange between a spymaster and her finest student. As handler and agent, or protector and orphan, or, sometimes, defenders of one another even when the other would *really rather they not, thanks,* Hetty and Callen have a relationship worth uncovering. Updated weekly, tag for every single episode of season 3.





	1. S3E1: Lange, H

Hetty opened her eyes in a hospital room to find a very familiar young man staring at her from the chair beside her bed.

"Hetty." His voice was dry and raspy, as if he hadn't slept. Which, given how he looked, he clearly hadn't. "Don't try to talk."

She gave him a _look_. There was a tube down her throat. She was hardly going to be able to make a sound that way. Had he taken a blow to the head which was impairing his observation skills?

"You're...you're going to be okay. They said you lost a lot of blood, but the bullet was small. So…"

He trailed off, and she could see the mountains of questions in his eyes, overshadowed only by the legions of fear and near-grief.

_Ah. No, he has taken a blow to the heart._

She held out a hand.

Callen grabbed onto it and held it delicately, as if she were made of glass.

"You're going to have to tell me everything." And he meant to say it playfully, teasingly. Instead, it came out heartbroken. "All of it. You have to tell me."

She had known that the instant she woke up alive. The fickle fates of the world had thrown her back into the game another time, and this was the price they would demand.

But G had come for her – and it was his due.

She nodded.

If anything, that gesture broke him a little more.

"God, Hetty. I thought...we almost didn't…"

She squeezed his hand.

His eyes were wet. "You came...to protect me. You could have died. To save me."

She nodded again.

"Don't…" And his voice broke. "Never again. Not for me. Please, Hetty. Next time, take me with you. I can't...I can't do this again."

It was a promise she could not make him, and he knew it. But he had to ask. Of course he did.

She released his hand and reached out. G bent his head down, letting her put her palm on his cheek. She smiled around the mask.

The risk had been worth it. The price would have been as well.

Her boy was alive, and he was here.

Even if his heart was breaking, he still had a heart to break.

She pulled gently until she could just tip her head up to touch his forehead with her own. His eyes closed, and she felt wetness on her cheek – and she could not tell if it was his tear or hers.

He drew in a shuddering breath and whispered, "Te iubesc."

Hetty's own heart felt a little broken and she tightened her grip on him. She could not say it back, but she knew he felt it. This time, the silence between them was not a blind, not a goodbye, but truth.

There would be many more difficult things to say in the coming days and weeks. Many things she ought to have told him before. Many truths she had kept from him. And there would be some she would keep still.

But they would have time, now.

G sat back but reclaimed her hand.

She gave him a look.

He shook his head. "I'm not going anywhere, Hetty. Not today, not tomorrow. Not until we're back home and I know you're safe. I'm not. I can't."

She accepted that with a small nod.

"Get some more rest," he said. "I'll tell the others you were awake the next time they check in. They've all been worried."

She squeezed his hand.

He made a small, slightly-uneven smile. "Yeah, something like that." He squeezed back. "Go to sleep. I'll be here. You're safe now."

It was a much grander promise, said in that way, with his eyes locked on hers, than it sounded to the untrained ear. But to one who knew G Callen's every look and feeling, sometimes before he knew them himself, she heard it all the same. She didn't know how many people he had killed to save her – and she knew he would kill a hundred more if they came for her now.

As she would do for him.

But first, she must heal. She could not protect him like this, and to see her so helpless upset him, too. So she accepted the necessity of sleep and let her eyes close.

But she did not release his hand again, and neither did he.

Hetty drifted into sleep feeling truly safe for the first time in many years.


	2. S3E2: Cyber Threat

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, when I set up my schedule for this year, I did not plan to be moving this week and next. That was NOT what I had in my schedule last August. But, here we are. So I am super way behind in replying to all of your lovely and wonderful comments, and I will continue to be behind for a while. Additionally, I may miss chapters next week – Monday is the day of movers and much furniture hauling and also (hopefully) setting up the internet at the new place.
> 
> If I do miss, I'll update as quickly as I can, I promise!
> 
> Anyway, this next set is kind of sad. If you recall, after the return from Romania, there are several episodes where the relationship between Callen and Hetty is thoroughly strained. And we won't see the resolution until next week. But, anyway. Here you go.
> 
> Enjoy!

The two months Hetty took "recuperating" at one of her houses was one of the longest periods G had gone without seeing her or speaking to her in years. It wasn't what he had intended at all. If he'd had his way, he'd have camped on her doorstep and shadowed her every move. But he didn't, at her own request.

As the plane from Romania had been landing at LAX, she had caught his eye.

"I need you to do something for me."

"Anything."

"I need you to go back to work. I'm going to need time and quiet, and I won't get it if my team isn't in the field doing what you do best."

He'd given her a look. "Who's going to run things?"

"Agent Hunter will continue to fill in as temporary Ops Manager."

Callen had glanced across the plane to where Lauren Hunter was steadfastly not looking their way, and he frowned.

"But you're going to come back. Right?"

"In time."

"Hetty…"

She had held up a hand. "I am trusting my operation to you, Mister Callen. Give me this opportunity to heal and to reflect. Take care of my city and take care of your team. And when I return...then we will have the conversation you have been waiting for."

He had shut his eyes.

"Do _you_ trust _me_ , Mister Callen?"

"Trust you? More than I should, probably. But…"

"I know." She had shaken her head. "You have questions. And doubts. And still you stand by me. It is a noble thing; don't think I don't appreciate your struggle."

He'd let out a breath and opened his eyes to face her once more.

"You're just going to take a little time at home, right? You're not going to disappear again?"

"I promise that I will not disappear."

"And it's just for a short while?"

"Until I can be effective again, yes."

"Okay." He nodded. "Can I…?"

"No." She had cut him off, knowing exactly what he would ask. "I think we both need some distance, Mister Callen, especially after all that has transpired and all the questions you have. I need you to leave me be. No more visits, no more popping out of the dark. Not until I return to work."

It made something in his eyes shutter closed even while he never broke her gaze, but he agreed.

Hetty had known perfectly well that he might not be able to hold to such a promise. Eventually, his impatience would become too great and he would make his way to her anyway. But if she could delay the inevitable, that would be enough.

Two months later, she was surprised that he held off as long as he did before he finally came looking for his answers.

She was less surprised when he left without them, because he trusted her still.


	3. S3E3: Backstopped

"Lange, Henrietta, in case you've forgotten."

He could already feel the floor dropping out from under him.

Hetty was here. Hetty was here and Hunter was not. He asked about it to be sure, and she teased him. Hunter was gone, on assignment. Hunter was no longer the manager, which meant Hetty was back at work.

She had already prepared tea for two.

"I did it because of your mother."

Ice lanced into G's heart. Truth, finally, and it _burned_.

"You knew my mom?"

"Sit down. I'll tell you everything I know."

He practically collapsed into the chair where he had spent so many hours and evenings. He knew he was sitting in it like a sullen teenager, like the sullen teenager he'd been when she brought him home. His thoughts were in chaos, and his emotions were worse.

But Hetty was there, calm, and open. She was keeping her promise. She was giving him answers, telling him the truth, and he couldn't break down. Not now. Not if he wanted to know. And he had never, ever wanted anything more than to gather up whatever she might tell him like he was starving and begging for scraps of food.

Begging for scraps of _himself_.

He saw, but couldn't acknowledge, that there was uncertainty in Hetty, too. These were secrets she had held his entire life and, by the look of it, longer still. She knew she was opening some very old wounds in them both to keep this promise and give him his past. For a fleeting instant, Callen considered what this revelation would do to Hetty.

But he was too caught up in what it would do to himself.

"What was her name?"

"Clara."

And Hetty smiled, and G felt a part of his own heart die. That was Hetty's smile for him. Hetty's smile that meant approval and welcome and home and safety. If anything, it should have made him feel better that Hetty loved his mother as she loved him. Instead, if filled him with dread.

"Her name was Clara."

For the first time, G wondered if the truth about his lost past might actually make him lose something precious in his present – and his future.


	4. S3E4: Deadline

"Forgive me."

The words had driven Callen out of her chair, and she had let him go. She also ordered everyone who remained in the building out, and there must have been something in her eyes she failed to hide, for every person ran as if for their life. Before G Callen had even strung up the punching bag, she was the only one left to hear him.

Every strike, every sound that was between a shout and a sob, every ragged breath, they landed in the part of her soul that Hetty thought should have been nothing but callused scar tissue by now.

She could not unmake the decision to keep so much from him, and if she were honest with herself, she would not have done it any other way, even knowing this outcome.

But still. It was a fresh pain that she may have saved Clara's son, the boy she had watched over and partially raised, only to lose him now to her own machinations. It was a grief, this loss of trust. And yet, it had always been in the making.

Hetty had known from the very day she took in G Callen and did not tell him who he was, that the time would come that she would have to give him the truth.

And now she must pay that price.

The next day's case was a perfect mission to keep Callen and his team focused. Hetty could be very minimally involved, not even required to give orders to the team directly nor to be included in their comms. She was aware of their every move, of course, but she gave the impression that she was coordinating the efforts of the CIA to warn the Libyan rebels -which she was – and not that she was avoiding the team leader.

She could see it in him, though, the new weight that was hidden in his eyes when he could not help but remember. He didn't joke as much with the others, and there was a slowness to his smile even with Sam.

Hetty watched it all from a distance, and mourned.

She truly didn't know if she had lost his trust forever.

She didn't know if she deserved his trust anymore, either.

At the end of the case, he returned to ask about how he and his sister got from Romania to America. For a moment, Hetty felt a fragile hope that Callen might yet find it in himself to understand her choice and her impossible situation. But there was no warmth in him as he asked, nor as he watched her answers. He was wary, suspicious, even as his emotions ran raw across his face.

She gave him the envelope which held a picture of Clara, and for the first time in many, many years, Hetty's courage failed her.

She could have said more to him. She could have explained. She could have apologized.

But she didn't. She couldn't give him any more leverage than he already had, now that he was the one with the knowledge that had defined them both from the beginning. If she gave him any more power, even if it would soothe the divide between them, then she could not still be his boss. His boss could not beg for his forgiveness for doing her job and doing it so well that he was still alive. His boss could not ask him to do more than accept what had been.

And if she could not be all that she had been, if she must lose G Callen as the boy she had raised, she _would not_ relinquish her place as his final protector. She had protected him for so long, and she would go on doing so until her dying day, it seemed. And if she must do that only under the auspices of NCIS as Operations Manager, then that was what she would do.

It would break her heart, but he would be alive, and that had always been the point.

Now, though, it felt more hollow than ever.

She could barely stand to speak to him and see that his feelings were no longer hers, that his mind and his heart were no longer where she could reach them with a glance.

She had saved him, again and again, only to lose him now.

As he left with the envelope in his hand, his eyes distant and his jaw set, Hetty wondered if he also was thinking perhaps he never should have followed her to Romania after all.


	5. S3E5: Sacrifice

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the short hiatus, all! On the plus side, I have successfully hauled my household of stuff 15 miles north and up 12 stories, and though one whole room is still mostly boxes, at least it all fits.
> 
> Unfortunately, this means I left off at one of the critical turning points in the series, and for that I truly am sorry. At the end of episode 4, things are still super tense between Callen and Hetty, and for good reason. Episode 5, "Sacrifice," is the episode in which Sam's car is stolen, and Callen spends the entire episode making cracks about the stages of grief. But that little running theme never gets the payoff it deserves. I fixed it.
> 
> So, now we begin the healing of the rift.
> 
> Enjoy!

Sam dropped Callen back at the office late – he'd stayed over for dinner after the shaky test-drive and initial assessment of the new car. Sam was giddier than G had seen him in months and he couldn't go more than ten minutes (four and a half when the girls weren't in the room) without circling back to the topic of the car and what he was going to do with it.

Sam had said thanks, too, but his enthusiasm was a far better thanks as far as G was concerned. He was just glad his partner was happy again.

As Sam drove off, the car still spitting a cloud of exhaust dense enough to serve as cover in a firefight, Callen glanced at the dark entrance to the building. He should walk right past it, get in his car, go home, and get some rest. He should, but he wasn't going to, and he knew it before he'd gotten out of Sam's car.

Because he could see that Hetty's car was still here.

They had barely spoken for weeks. Other than necessary exchanges during cases, Callen hadn't teased her or sought her out or even taken the time to bring her tea. The past that had united them once now divided them, a gulf that felt too wide to cross.

But today...

Before he could talk himself out of it, he pushed into the building.

Hetty sat at her desk, working on her laptop. The building was otherwise dark, and he knew it was empty save for the pair of them.

She looked up at once, and in the warm glow of Hetty's desk lamp, he could see a shadow of pain cross her face before she schooled her expression to something more neutral.

"Mister Callen?"

He swallowed. How could that simple question make him feel like a kid again, looking through windows to happy families and feeling so alone on the sidewalk?

"That was a good thing you did for Sam," she said. And only because he knew her so well did he hear the slight hitch in her tone. To anyone else, it would have sounded as it always had. As if nothing had changed between them. Instead of everything.

He nodded stiffly.

Hetty watched him for a long, silent moment. She must have seen something in his expression, because she returned to her laptop, deliberately giving him space.

And he realized he didn't want that.

"Four."

She raised her head again. "I beg your pardon?"

G cleared his throat. He didn't take another step closer to her, leaving her office chairs and the carpet enough distance between them.

But he felt himself moving towards her anyway.

"Stages of grief." His voice caught on the words. "I'm...I'm working on number four. Out of five."

"I see." She regarded him intently.

"When...when I get to the acceptance stage..."

Whatever she read in his face made her smile, a real smile, the first time he'd seen it since she had spoken his mother's name.

"I will still be here, Mister Callen. No matter how long it takes."

And it took a weight out of his soul to hear that. He dipped his head. "Okay."

It wasn't forgiveness. It wasn't even any sort of decision about where they would go from here. But it was a start.

"Hetty…" He couldn't do more than he'd done, but it felt like maybe it was enough. "See you tomorrow."

"Good night, Mister Callen."


	6. S3E6: Lone Wolf

When he'd told Deeks he had plans, Callen hadn't really been certain. It was more a hope of plans than anything else.

With more strength than it took to walk into a dangerous mission with a flimsy backstory, he walked into Hetty's office as he had done countless times. He asked about the scotch as if it were a year ago and nothing had changed.

It was an invitation. His move in their game being played.

And Hetty accepted that overture and returned it with interest.

"Care to join me?"

He didn't let her see his face as he answered, mostly because he knew there was too much in it that he just wasn't ready to give away. But he heard her own uncertainty, and her own hope that he would keep playing this game, that he would continue the dance of moves between them.

"I thought you'd never ask."

And Callen knew he didn't imagine the relief in Hetty as she poured the glasses.

He hadn't been unaware of the fact that he wasn't the only one suffering from the distance between them; he'd seen the remorse and the guilt in her every day since she had come back to work. He had been mostly concerned with his own pain, but he had known she had her share.

But, finally, G felt that there had been enough pain for both of them, maybe several lifetimes over.

He had also reached the point where he could start thinking about his mother the way Hetty must have – as a friend, yes, but also an asset. And, when he could truly be honest with himself, he realized that there wasn't much else Hetty could have done. If he had been in her place, if he had lost an asset and was left searching for a pair of children, and then was faced with one trapped in an endless cycle of orphanages, G might not have been able to do even as much as she had.

And he could understand why she had never told him. Because that was the job. Just as she had raised him to it, he had lived it. He could hate it, he could think she was wrong, but he could understand it.

And if he could understand that, if he could see the situation as an agent and not as the boy who had been at the center of the storm, then he could finally do as Hetty had asked.

He could finally forgive her.

Callen lifted his glass to her, and didn't miss the sorrowful hope in her eyes as she watched him so closely. "To old friends."

It was a good thing the scotch was terrible – otherwise neither of them would have had an excuse for the tears in their eyes.

But they both finished that drink. Together.

G set down his glass as Hetty packed the bottle away; clearly it was meant to be a keepsake and not consumed.

"You shouldn't have gone without us," he said.

"Basser was an old friend. I was never in any real danger."

"He had a gun." Something in Hetty's eyes gave her away and Callen leaned forward. "He pulled it on you, didn't he? He wasn't dead when you got there at all. You warned him."

"He made a choice to accept the consequences of his actions in his own way, rather than have them thrust upon him by the legal system."

"What if you'd been wrong?" G could feel his heart speeding up in his chest. "What if he had decided to take you down with him, or fight his way out, or use you as a hostage?"

"I find that very unlikely, Mister Callen." She let out a breath. "However, if events had transpired differently, I knew you and Mister Hanna would be there momentarily and I would, once again, be entirely safe with the two of you to assist me as necessary."

It was like pulling on his favorite old sweatshirt – it was comfortable, this give-and-take of concern and control and trust. His fear on her behalf, her certainty that he would come for her, their mutual assumption that they would take care of one another when bullets started to fly.

G shook his head and barked a laugh. "You really never do quit, do you, Hetty?"

"Not for a moment."

"Well, maybe for a moment." He smirked, and he could see the effect it had on the shadows in her eyes. "I mean, you _did_ try to resign."

"Until you stole my letter." And now her own face was twisting in a near-smile.

And suddenly Callen realized that she had _always_ known this would happen. She had cared for him, had taught him, had prepared him for the world, always assuming that one day either she would die to atone for failing to save his mother, or he would hate her when he learned the truth – and either way, she would lose him. Hetty had spent all the years they had shared waiting for the day that he would be gone.

Yet still she had loved him, protected him, and would have died for him. Even if he would have hated her with all his heart for it.

His stomach turned over. How could she have sat there, day after day, never knowing when the shoe would drop and he would turn on her? How could she have been his constant fixed point while waiting for everything between them to turn to ash?

G thought perhaps he could live ten lifetimes and never approach the courage and fortitude of Henrietta Lange.

She saw something change in his face and she leaned forward. "Mister Callen?"

"Hetty." It was too much to say. Too much to explain. He looked at her and he hoped that she could still read him as she always had. He was sure his eyes were betraying him – he hoped they were telling her everything so he didn't have to try to find words.

She blinked and her expression went soft. "Oh, my dear boy."

And just when he thought one or both of them might shatter right then and there, she stood up.

"Mister Callen." And her voice was masterfully even and controlled. "I believe I could use a proper drink after that awful scotch. I should very much like some company. Unless you have other plans for the evening?"

She was still saving him. Even now.

Could he ever truly have hated her? Could he truly have gone through life without being able to forgive her? Could he ever have turned his back on her?

G was overwhelmed with gratitude that he would never find out.

"Honestly?" And though he made a normal smile, there was a new gravity in his voice. "There's nothing I would like more than that, Hetty."

He stood up and held her coat for her, and offered her his arm. And before they were even out of the building, before they spent the evening relearning all their silent ways of saying the things that neither would ever put to voice, before they found a stronger connection than the divide of the past which had torn at them – before they even touched the night air, they knew.

They were going to be all right. They were going to be whole again.

And if this had not broken what lived between them, than nothing on earth ever would.


	7. S3E7: Honor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As a reminder, this is the first episode where we get a hint of Sam's assignment with Jada. No details, just a tiny conversation implying that he is regularly going abroad on a mission Callen doesn't know anything about.
> 
> Enjoy!

He caught her in the burn room in a quiet moment.

"So, Sam was telling me about this...coffee pot he's been dealing with."

Hetty chuckled. "Is that what we're calling it now?"

Callen smirked. "Apparently."

"And you have interest in his _coffee pot_ , then, Mister Callen?"

"Not exactly." He leaned on the door-frame. "I just want to know why he's out there making coffee on his own."

"You know as well as anyone that certain tasks must be undertaken alone," she told him.

"Yeah, but he said this one came with a mug. A...distracting mug."

Hetty gave him an affronted look. "I am very well aware of the situation and all its particulars."

"Right. So...if the mug is distracting, and if the coffee pot is slow to brew, how come he has to do it on his own? There's other people who could make coffee for him."

"I am finding this analogy to be rather tedious, Mister Callen." Hetty crossed her arms. "You want to know why you have not been involved in Sam's covert assignment abroad."

"Yeah. I do."

"Quite frankly? Because where he is going, and what he is doing, is in an environment where you would stick out like the proverbial sore thumb."

G opened his mouth to argue and she stopped him with a glance.

"I know Sam is your partner, and I know you worry – especially when you are not there personally to oversee his safety. But you need to trust me that right now Sam has a competent overwatch to guard his back. And I need you here."

"Why?"

"We don't know how long Mister Hanna's assignment will be," she said. "It has been over a year already and, though it should be drawing to its conclusion soon, it may go on for several more months. I can't have both of you halfway around the world in the field that often. I can spare one agent – not two."

Callen sighed. It was, of course, the correct and only answer. But he didn't have to like it.

"Just...if things are coming to a head, that's usually when they go really south. Promise me that he's going to be okay."

"Of course he will." She shook her head at him. "And if not, then I trust that Sam's partner will be there to lend a hand as well. And, because Sam's partner won't have been burned already, he will be in a position to do something."

G nodded. "You better believe it."

She smiled. "I certainly do, Mister Callen. I certainly do."


	8. S3E8: Greed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll admit it – this is the introduction of the one and only OC I will introduce to this series, ever. My beta reader assures me that it is very much worth it. This will not impact canon in ANY way. It just gives Callen a…friend.
> 
> Enjoy!

Hetty's phone dinged and she sighed.

The major problem of having Sam Hanna undercover halfway across the world wasn't the loss of one of her agents and therefore a pile of work upon the shoulders of the other three. Two – Deeks wasn't an agent, technically.

Two-and-a-half, perhaps.

No, the major problem was that, with Sam out of touch for long periods of time, there was no one else to take G Callen's ridiculous texts every hour of the day.

Hetty looked at her phone.

"There is a cat in my yard."

"Oh for the love of Gucci." She sighed and replied, swapping to Czech just to keep in practice, "Is this a matter which requires intervention?"

Callen sent her a smiley face. Hetty snorted. Deeks must have been responsible for that particular innovation. G Callen was not an emoji sort of person.

His next text was also in Czech. "I don't think it has a home."

She raised an eyebrow and sent, "Are you considering adopting it?"

"No." That response was too quick – he had been ready for her question. "But I don't want it to die or get hit by a car. Roadkill is bad for property values."

Hetty wondered how long it had been since Callen had slept. The absence of his partner left him slightly un-grounded, and therefore he tended towards erratic patterns of sleeping and eating. All of which ended with a strong impact upon his sense of humor.

"You could take it to the humane society."

There was a long pause this time before he responded. "What if it can't find a good family?"

Hetty shook her head. In some ways, that boy would never truly surpass his history. And would never grow up. He saw himself in the eyes of every orphan in the world, and apparently this was extended to feral cats.

A moment later, another text arrived.

"Do cats live in dog Gouda?"

She blinked.

Ah, of course. Autocorrect. Neither of their phones was really meant to handle Czech, after all. She could hardly blame the piece of technology for misinterpreting the word 'bouda' as 'Gouda.'

Another text arrived, in English this time.

"I'm making Eric add all the necessary alphabets to this phone."

"I think that would be wise," she sent. Then, "I cannot imagine that a cat would require a house when you have a perfectly serviceable porch. But it might appreciate some food sometimes."

"Okay."

Hetty laughed. She could already see him in his barren kitchen, looking through his cupboards for something resembling appropriate food. She thought the chances were about even that he might have nothing at all appropriate or a whole fillet of salmon in his fridge depending on how he felt about cooking this week. Either way, that cat was about to make itself a friend for life.

Two hours later, she received a final text from Callen on the matter.

"Now I'm all out of tuna, and he's asleep on the sidewalk. I am naming him Gouda."

She let out a satisfied breath and said to herself, "Well, at least he has someone to keep him company while Sam is away."

And she made sure to buy a packet of cat treats and put it in Callen's locker in the morning.


	9. S3E9: Betrayal

Hetty never knocked when she came into his house, apparently. He wasn't surprised anymore, of course. It was fair, since he never knocked when he went to any of her houses, either.

This time, he wasn't sure if he was glad to see her or not when she appeared in his front hall.

"How's your partner?" she asked.

He shook his head. "What, no 'hi, how was Sudan?'"

Hetty just looked at him.

"He's okay." Callen held out the bottle of beer he had just taken out of the fridge, but she shook her head. "He's home."

"There are few wounds we can take which are not eased when surrounded by the ones we love."

Callen gave her an amused look. "Is that why you're here?"

"I'm just checking on my agents." She said it with an innocent shrug that wouldn't fool an unhatched goldfish.

G found himself smiling anyway. "Want some tea?"

"Do you actually have _tea_? Or is it merely shredded grass clippings in little baggies?"

He couldn't help himself. He laughed. "Would I ever let you down when it comes to your tea, Hetty?"

"Actually, no, I don't believe you would, Mister Callen. Tea would be lovely."

"Sure thing. Make yourself at home."

She followed him into the kitchen, claiming his one chair while he bustled around the kitchen, grateful he actually had a mug that was clean. It wasn't one of Hetty's delicate cups, but at least it didn't have coffee grounds in it. While the kettle heated, he leaned on one wall and considered the turnabout.

"It's about time, don't you think?" she asked. "For me to be welcome in your home?"

G could have pointed out that Hetty would have been welcome anywhere he spent a night, even the ugliest of flophouses or the cheapest of motels. But she knew that. It hadn't been about welcome – it had been about a place. A place that wasn't temporary.

A place she had given him, incidentally.

So he just nodded.

"Still, it is nice to have you back stateside where I can keep an eye on you. Both of you." She folded her hands. "There's nothing easy about sending my agents into danger, especially so far from where I can be of any help to them."

He could see the ache in her, the way their safety was a weight on her shoulders.

"But we're home now," G said.

"Thanks to you, Mister Callen." Hetty met his eyes. "Your partner is safe with his family tonight because you were there to get him out." She swallowed. "You were right. You should have been with him."

"When it really counted, I was."

The kettle whistled, and Callen was able to break from her gaze to pour the water into the cup. He set the tea to steep and brought it to her at the table. Rather than retreating to the other end of the room again, he perched on his counter so he could sit across from her.

Hetty raised an eyebrow at him.

He grinned and saluted her with his beer. "It _is_ my house."

"Indeed." She looked into her cup for a moment, then regarded him. "I know this isn't what either of us wants to think about, but I want you to know."

The look Hetty turned on him was electric. It was the power of hellfire that she could wield, could and did, when the occasion called for it.

"If that had been Sam's body the CIA recovered…"

G met her hellfire with his own, his conviction unwavering. "I'd have killed them all."

"Officially, I would never endorse that." She delicately dipped her spoon into her tea to pull out the leaves. "However, I'm glad to know we are on the same page."


	10. S3E10: The Debt

Callen was very careful not to look at Hetty as he finished his paperwork about the Deeks case with Quinn. She was equally careful not to look at him.

It was an agreement made without words, made in the tension of avoidance, made with a tacit certainty that it was better to keep this particular silence in place.

Quinn had been bought by Fisk, and the price Fisk had asked in return was his very life.

It wasn't them – but it could have been.

Hetty had never specifically asked Callen to take up the sword on behalf of king and country. She had given him an opportunity, had shown him a path, but she had not forced him to walk it. She had never used their connection, their history, to make him into anything he hadn't chosen for himself.

But it would be very, very hard for them to prove that to anyone else.

It was why, even now, the fact that their shared experience stretched back to when G Callen was fifteen years old was a very closely guarded secret. No matter how much trust Director Vance had in either of them, he would separate them if he knew their relationship was more than just mentor and agent. Even if he knew they would not be compromised by their connection, he would need the plausible deniability.

They weren't Fisk and Quinn, but the similarities were enough to be uncomfortable.

So this time, they simply gave Kensi and Deeks the space to get reacquainted, and, without so much as exchanging a glance, let everything that needed to be said hang in the weight of the silence which was always between them.


	11. S3E11: Higher Power

"You should spend Christmas with Mister Hanna and his family."

G blinked over his mug at where Hetty had sidled up beside him. An impromptu singalong had broken out across the office, and in one corner it appeared to be turning into a dance-off as well. Deeks, to no one's surprise, was conducting the singing. Kensi, to even less surprise, was definitely _not_ singing no matter how many times he tried to cue her for a solo.

Callen considered her. "Is this your way of telling me you don't want me around this year?"

"No." She shook her head. "You always have a place at my table, Mister Callen, if you wish it. However, Sam's children won't be children forever. You don't want to miss the time you have with them."

G couldn't in good conscience argue that point. He was 'Uncle Callen' and had been for years. Sam's family was the nearest thing G might ever get to his own. And he really was curious about that plastic pony.

"I meant what I said. 'To friends and the family we have.'" He tipped his head in her direction. "That means you, too, Hetty."

"A fact for which I am more grateful than I can tell you." And it was all in her smile. "Especially after recent events."

"Hmm." He nodded. "But...maybe _because_ of recent events, we should make sure that we both know that things aren't going to change."

Because they could have, and they both knew that, too. The revelation of Callen's history could have destroyed the trust that bound him and Hetty – that it hadn't was a different kind of miracle. A very human miracle of forgiveness and loyalty and trust.

Hetty shut her eyes and nodded. "Very well. Then I shall expect you for supper on Christmas Eve. And please do not try that stunt with the garland again."

He grinned. "After last time? You know I've got something else planned."

"I tremble with fear, Mister Callen." But she was smiling.

"You know...if you wanted to come with me to Sam's on Christmas Day, I'm sure you'd be welcome."

"No, I think it's best if I continue to maintain my distance at this point."

"Oh. Really." Callen reached into his pocket for his phone. "Good thing somebody doesn't agree."

He held out a text from Sam's wife received earlier in the day.

"We open presents at 9am sharp, and I expect you AND Hetty to be here. Or else I will let the kids pelt you both with balled-up wrapping paper all afternoon."

Hetty laughed. "Well. I suppose I have my orders, then."

"I suppose you do."

"Hey!"

They both looked up as Deeks yelled and pointed their way.

"Get over here! I need everybody to take a verse for 'The Twelve Days of Christmas' and Hetty looks like a partridge to me!"

"Oh my god." G buried his face in his hand, nearly clocking himself in the nose with his phone as he did so. He looked over to Hetty. "Please don't shoot him. I mean, I get it. But just don't."

"Oh, I won't."

Callen should have run at the gleam in her eye.

Hetty set off across the floor. "Come along, Mister Callen. If I'm a partridge, then we need you to be one of the fowl in honor of your birdlike qualities."

"Yes!" Deeks cheered with both arms up in the air. "Callen, you're the geese-a-laying."

"Oh my god," Callen said again.

"Don't shoot him," Hetty told him, "and sing."


	12. S3E12: The Watchers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello all!
> 
> Sorry I'm a day late. Here's hoping I get my act together soon!
> 
> This next set was pretty fun. We get, in 4 episodes, the introduction of Owen Granger, Jada Khaled's explosive exit from protective custody, Callen and Sam's 5 year anniversary, and the introduction of the Chameleon (or Crimeleon) villain. It's quite a ride!
> 
> Enjoy!

Owen Granger was going to be a problem.

He was also, uncomfortably enough, tied tightly into Hetty's history, and knew far too much. Of course, that was a sword that cut both ways – she knew enough about him to ruin him as easily as he could ruin her. It was a game of scales carefully balanced, of secrets and missions and shared disasters that hung in a delicate equilibrium. Unless one of them sent it crashing to the ground.

Hetty wasn't at that point yet, of course. But the threat was there, for both of them, and he knew it.

The only reason she ever allowed Owen to play his game with her agents that night, to signal that she was in danger and let them come to her rescue, was to prove a point. Not to her agents, not that she was subject to his will. No, never that. Mister Callen said it himself later – if he had truly been an enemy, she would have taken him apart before they ever arrived.

Bless that boy and his unending faith in her, in spite of everything.

It had been an illustration for Owen. Proof that this team was not simply a unit of investigators or troubleshooters, but, in fact, the elite. And they had not let her down.

Callen had entered first, because of course he had. Not knowing the situation, not knowing the threat, of course that boy would put himself in harm's way to reach her. Hetty would have liked to see him with better control over those protective instincts, but it was also something she deeply appreciated about him – once G Callen's loyalty was well and truly given, he would die before taking it back.

He had entered slowly, warily, ready at any moment to pull his gun, to pull her out of danger, to throw himself between her and a grenade or a bomb. But he had never stopped moving once he entered. He had closed the distance carefully until he was within range to protect and shield her – but with Owen in the room, Callen had not simply moved to rescue. He had angled around her, slowly shifting Owen's focus, putting himself between them so Owen could not reach Hetty unless he went through Callen first.

And then he had circled just a little more, putting her into Owen's blind spot.

It wasn't for the benefit of the team that Callen had shifted Owen's angle, had caused him to turn. It was for Hetty. Callen and Hetty both knew the team would be where they needed to be, would make a successful entry and would approach from the correct vectors without making a sound. But Callen had forced Owen to turn his back to Hetty, giving her an opening as well.

Because Callen trusted Hetty, trusted her to guard his back as he would trust Sam, and wanted to make sure she could take a shot if a shot needed to be taken.

It was better than textbook. It was expert.

It was also, Hetty reflected later, exactly what he was doing with Owen in daylight.

Owen might give Callen and his team a case, might issue commands or make decisions, and all the while, Callen kept the man's attention on himself. He had already proven he was close to Hetty, which was enough to gain Owen's attention and curiosity. And now he was keeping Owen in the dance with himself, freeing Hetty to act. Without a word, without more than a knowing glance, Callen was playing the exact same game over the course of days that he had played in a matter of seconds.

Unfortunately, Hetty knew Owen well enough to know that he might recognize it.

Fortunately, there wasn't a damn thing Owen could do about it.

Callen would play this game and would force Owen to handle him directly, would keep Owen having to concentrate on Callen and the team, and would keep moving such that Owen would always need to be watching his feet or he might miss a step. In the first day, Callen opened multiple opportunities for Hetty to make moves of her own.

Which she did, albeit in secret.

Owen said he was not afraid of her. Hetty told him that was his first mistake. And it had been.

The second was that he was also turning his back to her again.

When Owen had come for Hetty for his ridiculous test, she was more annoyed than anything else. If he came for her agents now, she would be rather more than just annoyed. And she would again be in his blind spot, with an opening created by her finest agent.

She didn't intend to shoot him, not physically, anyway. Probably.

But metaphorically?

As always, Mister Callen would protect her, of course, but he also knew when to let her take her shot. She would not let him down. And if the choice had to be made, well, the ending this time around might be very different indeed.


	13. S3E13: Exit Strategy

Callen was a little worried that Sam wouldn't go home after the day they'd had, doubly so after the briefing from Eric tracking Jada's brother to Spain. He'd offered to do some sparring with his partner, just to see if that would help him regain his state of mind enough to return to his family as usual.

But Sam, resilient beyond measure, proved his strength yet again and pulled himself back under that iron control, back to the place where the world of his job and the world of his family were miles apart – back to where there was no intersection of "Agent Hanna" and "Dad."

G saw him off, and even got a good smile out of him. They both knew it wasn't a real smile, but it was good enough to fool most of the family; Callen had his doubts about Sam's wife because that woman was terrifyingly sharp. But it would be enough to get him through the evening.

Alone in the office for the first time in a while, G thought on what Hetty had said before leaving. "Sooner or later, our sins seem to catch up to us."

He hadn't really thought about it, but he could sort of see where Hetty was drawing a parallel. After all, it was she who had lied to him for so long, who had risked his trust in order to complete her mission – even if her mission had been to keep him safe and alive, and had come not from her superiors, but from herself. His own sense of betrayal, while different from Jada's, had been no less acute.

But that was all behind them now. G had made his choice, and his choice meant holding onto the family he had – and that included Hetty.

Still, it wouldn't hurt to remind her of that.

Especially with Assistant Director Owen Granger away.

G trotted over to Hetty's desk and grabbed one of her little notepads. He didn't quite know what he was going to say, but he thought it was worth saying regardless, so he let himself ramble for the length of the small square of paper.

Just in case, though, he put it in Romanian.

"If our bad deeds catch up to us, so do our good ones. We all make choices, some of them better than others. But, in the end, if we look around and the world is a little better? Then we probably did what needed to be done. And you have done more than anyone I've ever known, and not just for me. It may not all have been good, but, for me, I wouldn't have it any other way."

In the morning, he found a small square of paper in his locker with Hetty's handwriting, also in Romanian.

"What I have done may not be simple, and much of it is worse than I hope you ever know. And there is no point in idle speculation about what might have been. That said, those means led to these ends. And if you are content, then I can be as well. Thank you."


	14. S3E14: Partners

Sam and G exchanged a look that was lightning fast and spoke volumes. Then they both turned and followed Hetty to the door.

"Hey, wait up!" Callen called after her.

She paused and turned back. "Something you need? Besides my scotch?"

"Yeah." Sam glanced at his partner, then held out a hand. "Wanted to thank you."

"Thank me, Mister Hanna?"

"You're the one that paired us up," Callen said. "You're the one that recruited Sam to be my partner."

"Ah." She smiled and accepted Sam's hand, shaking it with her steady, firm grip. "Well. I can honestly say that helping good agents find partners they can trust completely is one of the true joys of my position, and yours is a match I've been grateful to have made more times than I can count."

"Us, too," Sam said.

She met his eyes for a moment and they both looked at G together.

He shifted his attention between them. "What?"

Hetty patted Sam's hand that she still held. "You are more than I ever could have hoped for."

Sam was going to reply, but Callen interrupted.

"You two are doing that taking-care-of-me thing again, aren't you?"

Sam shrugged at him. "Face it, G. You need a keeper."

"More than one," Hetty said.

"I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself." But even as he said it, protesting with every inch of force he could muster, he knew they could read the lie in it. Oh, he could handle himself on any given assignment, could survive whatever tomorrow's terrorists or mobs or cartels might throw at him. But to live through life, to exist without family, to maintain his sanity through the silence – for that, he was entirely in their debts and he knew it well.

As he'd said just today, sometimes his partner was the only thing that kept him sane.

The only other thing that did that was the woman who raised him.

So he protested because he was supposed to, but it was hollow and they all knew it. And he was so, so grateful that they did know, that he didn't need to tell them, that they could read him well enough even when he didn't have the words for it.

So they played along.

"Of course you are," Sam said with the kind of pitying tone he usually reserved for Deeks.

"I don't believe this. I come over here to thank you for five years." He poked his partner in the arm, careful to aim for where he knew Sam had a bruise – because he was still sore from Sam's somewhat-fake beat-down and was going to sport some spectacular colors for the next week, thank you very much – and would have poked Hetty except he liked having all his limbs in working order. "And to thank you for making it happen, and this is what I get?"

"Apparently." But Hetty was smiling. "And after five years of it, you really shouldn't be surprised anymore."

"I'm really not." He crossed his arms in front of his chest. "Well, I guess this means I'll be celebrating our anniversary with my beer by myself."

"Aw, don't be like that, partner." Sam had let go of Hetty and was facing him now. "Come on. We can open that champagne."

"No, no." Callen shook his head. "You wanted to save that for a _special_ occasion. Keep saving it, then, buddy."

Sam looked back at Hetty. "Is it too late to request a partner swap? I'm willing to housebreak Deeks for a week or two until he calms down."

"I'm not the one who has a problem here," G said. "You're the one who thinks I need some kind of watchdog babysitter."

"Because you _do_."

"And this is why most partnerships – and marriages – break up after two years. I'm definitely seeing it now."

Hetty sighed. "All _right_. That's enough." She glared at them both. "If I buy the first round, will that put an end to this ridiculous game you're playing?"

To both their credit, Sam and G maintained their poker faces perfectly. Unfortunately, neither one of them had ever been able to fool Hetty. She knew their undercover work too well.

"It's no game," Sam said. "It's just a day in the life with a partner who can't be honest with himself and doesn't appreciate everything I do for him."

"Can't be honest with himself? Me? My life is an open book compared to yours, Sam."

"Boys!" Hetty nearly stamped her foot, but she maintained her dignity in the face of the agents who did not. "Two rounds, and I'll get us into the back room at Alfred's. But _only_ if you knock it off right now."

G and Sam continued to look at one another in a vaguely antagonistic manner. Then G shrugged.

"It's a pretty good deal."

"Not quite as good as her scotch," Sam agreed. "But acceptable."

Callen grinned at her. "We're in."

Hetty made a frustrated sound. "You two are incorrigible."

The partners shook hands and pounded one another on the back.

"You gotta admit," Sam said. "It worked."

"Only because I knew precisely what you were doing." Hetty tossed her head. "Though I commend you on your performance. Mister Beale would have been very distraught."

"But not you?" Callen raised an eyebrow.

"The day _may_ come when I don't recognize you two playing me, but it is not today," she told him.

Callen shot his partner another quick look and Sam nodded.

"I'll grab our stuff." And he returned to the bullpen, leaving Hetty and Callen with a bit of privacy.

"Thanks, Hetty."

She shook her head, but she was smiling faintly. "A few rounds are the least I can do for all your hard work over the last five years."

"No, not that." G let all the artifice fall from his expression and held out his own hand. "Thank you for finding Sam. For bringing him in. For making him my partner."

"Oh, Mister Callen." She clasped his hand in both of hers. "All I did was provide the potential. You're the one who truly made him your partner and everything else."

"Yeah, but...without you, there's no telling if I ever would have found somebody like him to be my...my brother." He stumbled over the word, not because it was wrong, but because it was right. "And without that...I don't think I'd be who I am today."

Hetty's face was soft, and her eyes were unexpectedly full of emotion. "I think you are both better for your friendship, and I as well. Thank you, Mister Callen, for letting Sam into your heart."

G swallowed a lump in his throat and said, softly, with his voice not quite breaking, "Thank you for teaching me how to have one."

"I did nothing of the sort. Your heart comes from you, my boy, not me."

And they might have stood there going back and forth forever but for Sam popping up a moment later.

"Y'all ready to go?"

"Yeah." Callen pulled his feelings back under control, though he knew that Sam could see some of them on the surface. And he found he didn't mind too much, after all. "Can I drive?"

Sam chuckled. "Not a chance."

"What, not even for our anniversary?"

"Not even."

"Never mind." Hetty stepped resolutely between them and pushed open the door. " _I'm_ driving."

Sam glanced at Callen. "Should I be nervous?"

"Not if you wear your seatbelt." He grinned at his partner. "Which is kind of like me riding with you, so…"

"Watch it, or I'll come after you with that crowbar again."

"Try it and I'll sic Hetty on you."

They bickered all the way to Hetty's car. She, in response, made sure to drive as wildly as possible to the restaurant, just to give them something else to complain about for a while. It wouldn't last – they'd both be dead before they would ever stop their banter with each other altogether – but it made for a nice reprieve.

And it was just one more piece of evidence in a staggering, mountainous pile:

Agents Callen and Hanna truly and whole-heartedly deserved one another.


	15. S3E15: Crimeleon

"It's not your fault."

Callen looked up, somehow not surprised that Hetty had found him here, sitting in an out-of-the-way bench on a beach. If there was one thing he really enjoyed about Los Angeles, it was the golden sunsets that made the water look like fire.

He was never really sure if he should be worried about the way he associated sunsets and fire or not.

Callen shook his head at Hetty. "He was right there in front of me in the hospital, and I didn't see it. And now he's killed people in three countries, and he's going to kill more."

Hetty sat on the bench beside him.

"If we blamed ourselves for every terrorist who slipped through our hands, we wouldn't have time to sleep. We can do many things very well, Mister Callen, but we all make mistakes."

"And then he sent a con artist into our boatshed. I was looking him in the eye, and I didn't see that, either." He let out a breath. "What the hell am I doing here if I can't see someone operating undercover?"

"You're doing your job. And you're doing the best you can do."

G shook his head. "You'd have seen it. If you'd been there, you wouldn't have missed it."

"You can't know that." She folded her hands. "I'm as human as you, Mister Callen, and just as prone to mistakes, if not moreso."

Callen huffed a laugh. "You're never going to convince me of that."

Hetty smiled. "And you will never convince me that you are at fault for the actions of our Chameleon."

He swallowed. "Hetty...he knows where I live. He knows…"

"He knows the people you care about," she finished. "I assume there was some threat to us all? Revenge himself upon you by mowing down the people you love?"

"Something like that."

"Well." She cleared her throat. "Then I do hope he makes an attempt on me first."

Callen's eyes widened and he turned to her in rapid alarm. " _What_?"

Hetty was making a small, deadly smile. "If he does, I assure you, he won't be a problem for us for very long."

Callen was caught between laughter and exasperation. "Do me a favor? _Please_ don't mess with this guy?"

"He messed with us first," she said. "That must be answered for, Mister Callen."

"He's killed so many people, Hetty. I can't…"

"You _can_." She met his eyes and held them. "You _can_ , and you _will_. It's what you do."

He wanted to argue, but he sighed instead and nodded.

"Also?"

"Also?" he repeated.

"Please stop blaming yourself for not catching this man." She gave him a sly look. "If you hold yourself responsible for all this, then that means you are agreeing with Owen, and that doesn't sit well with me."

This time, G let himself laugh.


	16. S3E16: Blye, K Part 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These are a little short, though the episodes involving them certainly weren't simple. But given some of the weightiness of the previous set, and those at the end of the season, I don't think it hurts to have a few lighter ones. No cat this week, though.
> 
> But, never fear – Gouda will return!
> 
> In the meantime, enjoy!

He texted her from the car on the way to Kensi's to check out her computer. Sam and Deeks were arguing about driving directions or maybe the radio station – he wasn't really paying attention.

"You don't think she did this, right?"

Hetty's response was immediate. "No."

"It doesn't look good, though."

"No it does not."

Callen forced himself to take a deep breath. "Tell me you have a plan."

"Yes. Find the truth."

"No, not just that." He swallowed as he typed. "Something else."

"Yes."

It was a relief. If Hetty was ready, if she had a backup plan, if she had a way out, then Kensi was in the best hands he could ask for. He didn't want her to be just okay – he wanted to clear her name, find the real killer, bring Kensi some peace, and give her the chance to see justice for her father's death. Kensi was one of his team, one of his family. She was one of the strongest people Callen knew, and he hated seeing her brought low like this.

If he couldn't make this right, he could trust that Hetty would.

Callen didn't ask what her plan was, what strings Hetty would pull or what contingencies she had in place. He needed not to know so he couldn't be forced to reveal them.

His phone buzzed again.

"Kensi is one of ours," Hetty had typed. "No matter what happens."

G nodded, even though he understood the double message in her words. Kensi was theirs, their agent, their teammate, and they would fight for her and protect her and guard her back to the end.

However, on the other hand, if they had all been fooled, if she really was guilty of this, if she was not who he knew, he _knew_ she was, then they and they alone – not the CIA, not Granger – would be the ones to bring her down.

But it wouldn't come to that. He would make certain of that.

Kensi hadn't killed these men. It was impossible. And he was going to prove it.


	17. S3E17: Blye, K Part 2

Hetty was surprised to find Callen waiting in her office when she arrived in the morning, the water in her kettle already hot and the tea steeping. Given that he typically arrived two or even three hours later than she, it was quite the aberration from his pattern. After all, usually when he wanted a word with her in private, he invaded one of her houses.

Still, he didn't look troubled, and there was no tension rolling off him, so she decided not to assume the worst and set about her morning tea routine as usual, only adding a second cup to her tray.

"Good morning, Mister Callen."

"Morning, Hetty."

"May I ask what brings you here so early?"

He shrugged, pretending to be nonchalant and doing an excellent job of it. "Hadn't seen the sun rise without being on the wrong end of an all-night stakeout for a while. Figured it was worth it."

"Hmm." She brought the tray to her desk and poured the tea for them both. "Well, as excuses go, it isn't the worst I've ever heard."

He smiled. "What was the worst?"

"Oh, there was a very junior agent once who swore that they were unable to answer their phone one morning because it had 'fallen into the cat's litter box and was buried.'" She shook her head. "This agent was severely allergic to cats, which was not in his file, of course, but still."

Callen snorted. "I had better excuses when I was a kid than that."

"Indeed you did."

For a minute or two, they sat drinking their tea quietly. Hetty always appreciated when Callen drank tea with her – it wasn't something he enjoyed the way she did, and never had. But he drank it with her often, not because he was fond of the tea itself, but because it was a ritual between them. Tea was something that Hetty brought into his life, a constant of her own, and it was something he chose to share with her, despite his own neutral opinion of it.

Hetty made sure when she brewed tea for Callen that she chose the most generic and uncomplicated teas for him – anything more elaborate was wasted on him anyway.

Finally Callen set down his cup. "So...Granger's staying?"

"So it seems."

"Is there...something I should know about him?"

"Oh, many things, I should think." She gave him a small smile. "But the most important are the ones you already know."

"That he's a bureaucrat who plays politics, but he's capable of loyalty when it suits him?"

She nodded. "Owen is also decisive, thorough, and fearless. He plays the game the same way whether it's in the hot seat in Washington or a back alley in Moscow. He was an excellent agent in the field, and he has a single-mindedness which can be very valuable in the right circumstances."

"But?"

"But he is also less likely to allow himself to form personal loyalties or attachments." She peered at him over her glasses. "Owen serves this country without hesitation, but, as we learned during the events surrounding the death of Kensi's father, he will be equally quick to turn on someone – if they are guilty."

"He wouldn't fight for us if we were in trouble."

"He would," she said, "if he was really sure you were ultimately in the right. But he may also fight in his own way." Hetty looked into her teacup for a moment. "In many respects, Owen and I have much in common, and not just our history. But the difference, I believe, is that he is capable of being even more aggressively neutral than I."

"Whereas you would side with us to the end."

"Yes, I would."

Callen leaned forward. "Do you trust him, Hetty?"

"Trust is a complicated matter, Mister Callen. I believe Owen will do what he thinks is best, and I believe he will do so only after giving the situation a great deal of thought. But I also believe that he can be very short-sighted, especially when it comes to people."

She watched him digest that. He seemed to come to a conclusion, because he looked up and asked, "Is there...something that happened between you two that I need to know?"

Hetty shook her head. "There is too much between us for you to know it all right now. Owen and I have a history that stretches back decades, and not all of it can be easily split into good and bad. However…"

He peered at her closely.

"There was a time I regularly trusted him with my life." That admission surprised him; she could see it in his eyes. "And if it came to it, I would again."

"But you wouldn't trust him with this team?"

"Owen would shoot someone to save one of you. I have no doubts about that. But I don't know if he has the team's best interests at heart yet. He wouldn't put you in danger or intentionally cause one of you to come to harm. But I don't think he really understands the magnitude of what we do here, or of the decisions we make."

Callen let out a breath. "So...trust him, but watch my back in case he starts playing politics again?"

"Something like that."

"Okay." Callen drained the rest of his tea in one gulp. "Just...promise me that if he's actually a problem for you, that you'll let me know before I have to pull my gun on him again."

Hetty chuckled. "Mister Callen, if Owen becomes that sort of problem for me, he'll already be looking at my own."


	18. S3E18: The Dragon and the Fairy

The lost family had hit rather close to home for Callen, so the basketball game at the conclusion of the case was a perfect distraction. Even better when Hetty arrived to ref the game.

Hetty with a whistle was a sight to behold, doubly so when she cracked down on every single possible foul with the same ferocity she brought to everything else. She did eventually bench Sam for two minutes, mainly because he couldn't stop second-guessing her calls.

It was uncharacteristic of him, which meant it was probably deliberate.

There had been a lot about families in their work lately – his own, Kensi's, now a family split by time and war in Vietnam. Once, so many reminders of that which he did not have would have dug into his mind like an ice pick, wedging pain and cold deep inside.

Today, G Callen found he could be honestly happy for a man who had found his daughter and grandson at last.

After all, though he had not found all of his family, he had found some of it. And, more importantly, he had built a family of his own along the way.

"Mister Callen!"

Hetty's voice rang in the gym.

"If you continue to delay before taking your free throw for another twenty seconds, I will turn the ball over to the other team."

"That's not a rule," Sam objected at once.

"On my court? It is now." She gave G a pointed look.

Ah. He knew that look. She thought he was thinking too much again. And she wanted him not to dwell on the past, but to live in the present.

And, as usual, she was right.

G dribbled the ball again, closing his eyes for just an instant.

"Come on, partner!" Sam was cheering from one side. "We got more humiliating to do here!"

"We'll see who gets humiliated!" Deeks yelled back.

"Mister Callen? Five...four...three…"

Callen opened his eyes and took his shot all in one motion. And grinned at Hetty when it went in.

"Excellent. Now, let's resume normal play."

Kensi retrieved the ball and Sam and Deeks fell into position.

G glanced back at Hetty and winked.

She shook her head at him. "Not this time, Mister Callen."

"What?" he asked, jogging backwards. "I didn't say anything."

"You didn't have to."

With a light heart, he threw himself back into the game.

No, he hadn't had to say a word for Hetty to know that he understood her message, agreed, and was grateful for the reminder. Just as she hadn't said a word to remind him to be here with his team, with this family, and not lost in the shadows of what might have been.

But now he needed to focus on his wordless communication with Sam, before Kensi and Deeks beat them both.

Family or not, basketball bragging rights were something else entirely.


	19. S3E19: Vengeance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, these 4 are pretty chill, which works out because next up is the literally explosive end to season 3!
> 
> Since next Monday is Memorial Day, if I am late, I promise to get these up on Tuesday.
> 
> Enjoy!

"Sam would die for what's right."

"He may have just done that, Mister Callen."

G read the look in her eyes, and breathed a sigh of relief even as he understood her warning.

If this had been a case Owen Granger was running, Sam's actions might have destroyed his career. Sam would have been in the right, would have done the noble thing, but his place with NCIS would be over. And without any interference from anywhere else, he might be brought up on charges as well.

Sam would have given up his career to protect those SEALs. He wouldn't have regretted it, but being right wouldn't have saved him.

And G would be out a partner.

But even before they went upstairs, Callen knew Hetty was not going to take Sam away, or end his career. Not over this. Not when Sam's decision meant that SEAL team made it into the field to rescue their targets.

Callen realized as he walked into Ops that he had absorbed some of that extreme faith in SEALs from Sam, because it literally never crossed his mind that they wouldn't be successful. He watched their battle, Taliban raining fire down on them, injuries and wounds to the members of the team – and never questioned whether or not they would get out the hostages. They were SEALs. Sam even said it a minute or two later.

"That's what we do."

G knew that. He'd had five years with Sam to learn it.

He also knew that Hetty would close the investigation. She told him as much without saying a word. Because that was the game Hetty played. There was a difference, always, between what was legal, what was right, and what was just. And whenever possible, Hetty went for right and just and let the legal side slide.

But there had been a warning in there, too. Things might change with Granger around now. And Sam would always be Sam. Sam would still die for the right thing.

Hetty was telling G that he needed to cover the grey area in the middle. If Sam was going to take the high road, then his partner would have to go low, as low as necessary, to get them both out of a situation intact. If Sam was going to destroy evidence, then G would have to produce some, or find different evidence, or negate the need for it.

Or he might lose his partner to Granger's interpretation of right, just, and law.

And since that was _never_ going to happen, Callen made a note to watch his partner's back in a new way. Just in case.

As Sam would always, always do for him.


	20. S3E20: Patriot Acts

Callen found Hetty leaning on the railing looking down at the bullpen. Nate was surrounded by the rest of the team, swapping stories and jokes as if he had never left.

"How's he doing?" he asked her.

"He is making a difference," she said. "His expertise has led to multiple successful missions, evaluations, and interrogations."

G gave her a look. "How is he _doing_?"

"I believe...he is coping better than he expected."

"What about what _you_ expected?"

She gave him a small smile. "Nate hasn't disappointed me in any way."

Callen nodded, letting out a breath. "Good to hear."

"Don't worry, Mister Callen. I recall our original deal. If Nate is ever in need of our help, we will be there for him." Then she made a sly look. "As he would be there if we needed him."

He raised an eyebrow. "Are you implying we need a visit from Nate?"

"It _has_ been a while since you had someone with whom to sit down to discuss the complicated matters which are not a part of normal mission debrief."

Callen intently ignored the increasingly smug look on her face. "I'm fine, Hetty."

"Of course."

"I'm _fine_."

She nodded and stepped back. "You should go spend time with your team, Mister Callen. We won't have Nate around for much longer."

He could feel she had something else to say, so he just waited for it.

Hetty started to leave, paused, and turned back. "Oh, and don't be surprised if Nate asks you about your cat."

"You told him about the cat?" He paused. "Wait. It's not _my_ cat."

"It eats in your backyard, you bought it a small home, and you have pictures of it catching birds on your phone."

Callen was affronted. "Gouda is murder on birds. It's actually impressive."

"It's a good thing, Mister Callen. And Nate will agree."

He glared. "You didn't need to tell Nate about the cat, Hetty."

She smiled. "I wouldn't have, if you had done so yourself. Now, go enjoy your team." She turned away. "Good night, Mister Callen. My regards to your cat."

Callen sighed, braced himself for inevitable teasing, and followed orders.


	21. S3E21: Touch of Death

Two weeks after the smallpox case, Hetty found an unmarked brown bag on her desk. She knew by the scent before opening it that it was green tea.

"Sorry it's late."

She looked up to see Callen leaning on the pillar as usual.

"I'm not sure it can be late, given that it was rather unexpected."

He smiled. "We were too busy while we were in Hawaii for me to find some, but after our friends went home, I sent them an email. Apparently this is the finest green tea grown in Hawaii. Detective Kelly was very specific about that."

"I can imagine. But you certainly didn't need to go to all this trouble."

"Well." He shrugged. "You did send us out there."

And she understood.

Dracul Comescu had been in Hawaii. For the first time, Callen had been faced with his past, his history, with the blood feud that had taken his mother. Hetty would have been well within her rights to refuse to send him and Sam because of that history. But she had sent him, and he had needed to go.

And he had killed Comescu, finishing what had begun in a beach house on the other side of the world.

But he had come back, and not only because of the smallpox. He had come back because here was where he belonged, here was his own family he would defend.

He had faced his past, and he had accepted his present.

And Hetty was still a part of his future.

It was something he didn't know how to tell her, exactly. He had been so angry, so hurt, so betrayed for so long when he found out all she had known about him without ever telling him. In the end, he had understood her decision, had forgiven her, had decided to hold onto the family he had rather than shatter it for the family that was already gone.

But there were tender spots in those old wounds – for both of them.

G Callen wanted and needed Hetty to know that he did not hold them against her.

So he did it the best way he knew.

He brought her tea.

Hetty smiled at him. "Thank you, Mister Callen. It is a wonderful gift, and I expect I shall enjoy it very much."

He smiled back, and she could see that he knew she understood his true message. "At the rate we're going, at some point you're going to have an international network of people who can acquire you any kind of tea you want. There are some cartels who don't have as many ways to get their stuff as you do."

She chuckled. "And it should stay that way. Proper tea deserves the effort to acquire it and the time to savor it."

"Well, I'll leave you to savor this, then." He held up a hand at her question hanging in the air. "No, if regular tea is only barely my thing, green tea is definitely not my thing. It's all for you."

And she understood that, too.

"Thank you," she said again.

And she hoped he knew that 'it,' whatever 'it' was, was all for him as well.


	22. S3E22: Neighborhood Watch

Callen was lying on his floor again, thinking about whether or not to turn on a light, when he remembered something Sam had said during the assignment about a speech Hetty gave agents.

He pulled out his phone and texted her. "How come you never gave me the intimate undercover assignment speech?"

She sent back, "I wasn't under the impression you needed it."

Which was what he'd told Sam, of course. He preened a little. Then decided to be sure. "Why?"

"Because you are always a consummate professional."

Callen grinned. He was going to rub that one in Sam's face for sure.

Another text arrived.

"Also, your undercover partners were mostly faithfully married or uninterested in men."

"Except Tracy," he replied.

"Tracy was not up to me."

Even from halfway across the city, he could _feel_ Hetty's disapproval. He wondered what poor handler had gotten an assignment in Antarctica without ever knowing what they had done to deserve it. Then he decided he just didn't want to know. If Hetty took punitive action against somebody on his behalf, plausible deniability was essential.

He sent, "Was there a reason you thought I couldn't handle being partnered with someone that way?"

To his surprise, his phone rang. "Hetty?"

"It was never that I thought you could not handle it, Mister Callen. It was that I didn't want to put you in the position of growing close to someone under false pretenses. There had been enough of that already." He could hear the sigh in her voice. "I thought that you would be better off when you could make friends and allies in truth, not undercover."

"Oh." He wanted to say that he could have handled it, that such a level of protectiveness wasn't necessary. But, on the other hand, he knew himself. And, especially early in his career, he might well have made a mistake and attached himself to someone more than was wise. Again, Tracy was proof of that.

"I can give you the speech now if you'd like," Hetty said.

He laughed. "No, thanks. I'm good." Then he paused. "But you did give it to Kensi and Deeks, right?"

"Of course. In _great_ detail."

"Good. If anybody needed to be reminded about feelings and the job while doing that, it's the two of them."

"But you don't think I made a mistake sending the two of them together rather than sending Kensi with you?" she asked.

"No. Because, first of all, Deeks is Kensi's partner and deserved to be there. And, second, Kensi and I would probably have killed each other in the first day."

"You and Miss Blye get along perfectly well."

"Hetty." He shook his head even though she couldn't see it. "Kensi has _stuff_. A _lot_ of stuff."

"Oh, of course." He could tell she was smiling. "Well, then I am glad you agree that their partnership could withstand the assignment."

"I'm more worried about whether their partnership can withstand the two of them," he said. "But, however it comes out, I think they're going to be fine."

"As do I, Mister Callen. Now, unless you really want the speech about your emotions and hormones…"

"Good night, Hetty." And he hung up listening to her start to laugh.


	23. S3E23: Sans Voir Part 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for missing yesterday. And with these three as well! This sequence with the return of Janvier and everything is one of my favorite arcs in the series. So much happens.
> 
> Here we go! Enjoy!

She hung up the phone, and before she turned around, Callen knew.

"Hetty?"

He heard the words, but the meaning was the only thing that mattered.

Renko was dead.

Hetty's face was masterfully composed, and her voice was even. But Callen had seen the crack. The tiny break in her spirit, the soul sliding out of her eyes.

It was exactly what he had seen with Dom.

Hetty turned and left Ops before anyone could speak, before they could even react. And it was one of the most difficult things he could do right then not to follow her. His heart was pounding, and his throat ached from all the words he wasn't saying or yelling or swearing.

Hetty must have been feeling a thousand times worse. She wasn't Renko's handler, but she had been once. She considered Renko hers.

Callen heaved in a breath. "Come on, Sam. Let's go talk to Mara White."

Deeks's eyes were wide and concerned. "What about Kensi?"

"Go meet her at the hospital," Callen said, fighting his voice the whole way. "Bring her with you to the boatshed if she's ready."

"Deeks." Sam's tone was low, and he actually clapped Deeks on the shoulder. "Take care of her."

"I will."

Callen exchanged a nod with him, too, as he and Sam headed out of Ops. He paused to look back at Eric and Nell. Nell looked composed, but Eric was stricken.

"You okay?" he asked him.

Eric swallowed. "I didn't…"

"It's okay," Nell said. "I'll handle things."

Callen was flushed with gratitude. He didn't have time to hold everybody together, not now, but Nell was stepping up the way Deeks was, being strong when the team was in need. He looked at Eric to be sure, but Eric was staring at Nell and looked about two seconds away from asking her for a hug.

"Nell." Callen met her eyes. "Thank you."

"Any time." And she couldn't smile, but she tried.

Callen left Ops feeling like he had abandoned one storm, only to skirt the edge of another.

Hetty was in her office. Deeks was already out of sight, and Sam was waiting by the door. Hetty was not sitting at her desk, but was instead perched in the back corner at the secure computer inside the hutch. It sheltered her from the furtive glances of the others in the office.

He moved towards her almost on instinct. But he paused just before taking the first stair into her space.

"Hetty?"

"You have a job to do, Mister Callen." Her voice was cold and still. "Focus on that. There will be time for everything else later."

He couldn't tell her that things would be all right. He couldn't tell her that he would find out who killed Renko and either bring them to justice or take revenge. He couldn't tell her that he was sorry, that he would be there for her when her heart broke, that he was in this with her.

He hoped she could hear it when he said, "Yeah, there will."

He hoped she would be all right.

He headed to the boatshed with his heart warring between rage and grief. And both fueled his determination.

Renko was dead and his team was heartbroken again.

G Callen could never make this right, but he would go down himself before he failed them again.


	24. S3E24: Sans Voir Part 2

Hetty owed Owen a debt for handling the situation after her team took the Chameleon into custody. He spared her having to arrange for retrieving Lauren Hunter's body, having to call all the people who needed to be called, the papers that needed to be filed. He even offered to debrief the team.

Because Owen, though he might not have known for sure, probably suspected that Lauren Hunter was one of Hetty's.

(In a fleeting moment between waves of grief, she hoped he still did not suspect the full truth about Callen.)

She wasn't quite sure how she got home. She made tea and sat in her chair, and the sorrow and guilt raged inside like a hurricane.

The sun had only barely set when Callen came in.

This time, he didn't speak. She looked into his eyes and saw anger and confusion, but his feelings were more removed. He had only known Lauren Hunter for a short time, and never as anything but an antagonist in one way or another. He had never seen her as a friend, a teammate, or a part of his heart.

Something in his distance made her feel cold.

They were almost siblings, and he had never known it.

But Lauren had. Lauren had known it all.

That was why Hetty had trusted Lauren with her team when she left for Prague. That was why she trusted Lauren with the Comescus. That was why she had trusted Lauren to protect Callen in her absence. Even though Lauren had always resented him a little bit.

She had once accused Hetty of having favorites, and of Callen being chief amongst those because of his mother.

Hetty had called her a brat and told her to grow up.

She hadn't ever allowed herself to examine those feelings, because she was afraid that Lauren might be right.

And now Callen stood before her, unsure how to help her.

Hetty shook her head. He would have let her cry, if she had been willing. But she wasn't. Not right now.

Callen made another step towards her.

"Please." She knew her voice was harsh and she could not soften it for him. "Don't."

She watched him snap, like a string that had been cut. Where he had been concerned, sorrowful, now he was enraged.

That protective boy was _burning_ because she had been hurt.

"Hetty…" His eyes were hard. "I…"

"I'm going to tell Owen not to let you near the Chameleon," she said.

If anything, that made him even more enraged, though he kept it all inside.

"Go home, Mister Callen. I will see you in the morning."

He rocked on his feet like he was going to take another step towards her, but froze when she turned her eyes to him. She felt wild inside, and he saw it.

And he backed away.

"I'm here, Hetty. Whatever you need. I'm here."

"Good night, Mister Callen."

She watched him go, knowing he wouldn't go far. She didn't sleep, and she knew he didn't either, keeping watch from his car on the street. When she rose before the sun to go see Lauren in the morgue, he followed her, though he stayed outside.

She hoped that her grief wouldn't drive him to something he couldn't handle. She knew that he would set fire to the world for her, and sometimes she hated it. Rarely more than today, when he was going to be her burning sword of vengeance, when he was going to strike down anything that had broken her.

His pain wasn't his own – it was hers.

First Renko, now Lauren were gone. And Hetty felt like she was drowning.

She could only pray that she didn't drown him along with her.


End file.
